


Eager

by whatchafelloverfor



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellarke, F/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8361805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatchafelloverfor/pseuds/whatchafelloverfor
Summary: Clarke is actually in a good mood, and she'll be damned if Bellamy doesn't follow in suit.





	

Clarke woke up from a dreamless sleep, it lasted for nine hours and she slept comfortably and deeply. She was refreshed and ready to start a new day. Excited, even. She was in a good mood. 

Her breakfast tasted better than usual. She made light conversation and laughed when Raven made jokes. Murphy seemed to be enjoying his meal with Emori at the table adjacent to theirs, Clarke was glad for him. Monty and Harper were whispering and giggling to one another and Clarke looked at them without contempt or envy, she was in a good mood. 

Then she spotted Bellamy, flagging him down excitedly, he simultaneously raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes at her. "Good morning, Bell." She greeted. He grunted in return, tending to his food. "How are you?"

At this he looked up food, slightly surprised. "I'm fine... are you alright? You seem kind of spazzy. You didn't find a chip and take it did you?" 

Clarke laughed, at what she assumed was a joke. "I'm great, Bellamy. I slept well, my food is good, as is my company." She raised her cup to which Raven mirrored. 

"Alright... there's nothing going on right now, is there?" Bellamy asked, still suspicious of Clarke's mood. 

"Nothing you and I can control. Except maybe mapping out rations, just in case. How's your food?" She asked. 

"Jesus, Clarke, its fine. Would you just calm down over there? I wanted to eat with you, not Jaha." Bellamy said, dropping his fork and taking his plate over to the sinks. 

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning..." Clarke whispered to the remaining table residents. 

To this Raven and Monty laughed and Monty replied, "Clarke. This is what it's like talking to either of you 99.99% of the time." 

"No, I'm not that... Well damn. Sorry, he's like a rain cloud." Clarke observed. 

"Don't let him dampen your mood, Clarke. You have a good day." Harper ordered. 

"I will! Thank you, Harper. I'm gonna go to the clinic and save some lives!" Clarke said eagerly, standing from her seat.

"Yeah! Save those lives, ya baddass!" Raven yelled, applauding her as Clarke left the cafeteria. 

__________________

Clarke's day so far in the clinic turned out to not be very life saving. She diagnosed a couple flu cases and gave out some antibiotics. It was 5 o'clock before she even had to wash her hands. She had to give a certain Bellamy Blake six stitches across his chest. 

He announced his presence by subtly coughing at the doorway. His face looked fairly beaten but nothing unusual save for the tear across his shirt. Blood bloomed from the tear, contrasting against the starchy white material. His face was upset and slightly bashful as he moved to one of the stools, all too familiar with the process of being stitched up by Clarke. 

"You should've seen the other guy." Bellamy finally spoke. 

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Who got you?" She asked, picking up some thread. 

"Jasper. We were demonstrating hand to hand contact because Kane wanted me to show off this one move, and Jasper's fucking ring caught me in the chest when he hit me. Little shit didn't even look guilty about it." Bellamy explained. 

Clarke bit back a peel of laughter. "You're gonna need like six stitches so that means no action for a week until I can take them out. He's wearing a ring now?"

"Obviously." Bellamy grumbled which Clarke laughed at. "Hey, stop laughing at this. Jasper's still pissed at us for Maya. And now that he's not drinking he's taking it out on whoever he fights." 

"I'm sorry Jasper's ring cut you, Bellamy." Clarke said, looking into his eyes. Then she started laughing again. "Do you think it was a planned tactic, wear a ring to hurt you more when he punched you?" She asked, laughing between words. 

"Probably. Look could you just stitch me up now? We're supposed to talk with Kane about allocating rations in 20 minutes." Bellamy reminded Clarke, ever the rain cloud. 

"Fine. Shirt," she said holding a hand out until he placed his crimson stained shirt in her hand. She placed it on the countertop next to her. "You know, even though you're being grumpy and a little bit of a dick, I'm still in a good mood."

Bellamy winced as she rubbed the antiseptic across the expanse of his tanned chest. "Good for you, Clarke." He said gruffly as she started threading the needle through his skin. He hissed as she pulled his skin together. "Forgive me if I'm not in the same mood."

"I don't." She replied shortly, continuing the stitches. 

"What?" Bellamy said, clearly thrown off by her response. 

"Monty informed me this morning that the way you interacted with me at breakfast is how we always are. Do you know how sad that is? You were so annoyingly grumpy this morning!" She exclaimed, pausing her work at his chest to look up at him. 

"Well, that happens when we have to constantly be making the tough decisions for our people, Clarke. It doesn't always leave us in a good mood." 

She pulled another stitch through his cut. "I know! But what about when there is no present danger? What are you going to do? Look for a fight, like last time?" 

"What do you want me to say, Clarke? That I don't know how to do anything else but fight?" He yelled. "Because it's true! On the Ark I was a guard, and a good one! I have nothing else but fighting, so I'm sorry if that upsets you because you have everything else to do once we can finally rest!" 

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked, sharply pulling the thread through his skin, completing the fourth stitch. 

"You're a healer, Clarke! War or not, we'll always need doctors. And you're an artist! You have a life set out in front of you if the fighting stops, I have nothing!" Bellamy shouted back at her. 

"Bellamy. That's not true or fair. You are a leader, and people don't need a war to need a leader. And you know that." She said, pulling through the last stitch. 

"Great! I'm a leader, what else do you want from me, Clarke? I can't be happy go lucky like you want me to be. I know too much. I can't just be the perfect leader right away because clearly there's lines of people more fit than me to lead. What do you want, Clarke?" He yelled, towering over her, now as they both stood. 

"I want you to be passionate about something other than fighting, Bellamy!" Clarke finally shouted, moving her hands from his chest after placing the bandage on top of his wound. "I want you to want to be something. Hell, I just want you to be eager about something! Anything!"

Bellamy looked back at Clarke. His eyes dark and conflicted. His face was flushed with anger. He looked down for a second, for a heartbeat, and then made a movement like a shrug and he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. 

Clarke's back was pressed against the counter as he kissed her. It was rough, almost feverish and... eager. After a moment of confusion Clarke kissed him back with the same intensity. His lips were chaste as he kissed down her neck, sending jolts of electricity down her body and pulling her head back, forcing a sigh out of her chest. 

She brought his head back to hers, seeing his pupils blown wide as he dipped his head again to kiss her lips. She ran her fingers through his mess of curls and when he bit down on her lip she tugged on them, producing a growl from Bellamy. Then he lifted Clarke by her thighs, making her hook her legs around his torso until he placed her on the counter top, equaling their heights. 

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, impossibly closer. He tugged off her jacket, and then she lifted her arms up as permission for him to lift her tank top off above her head. He pulled it up slowly, kissing up her sides as he went until Clarke grew impatient and nearly ripped the shirt from her body. He smirked up at her and kissed along her collar bone and between her breasts, nearly setting Clarke on fire. 

"You wanted me to be eager about something other than fighting... It's you. You are my passion, my drive, you are... Jesus fucking- you're beautiful." Bellamy breathed onto her lips. 

"Bellamy," Clarke breathily said, "Shut up. Shut up and kiss me." Bellamy didn't waste any time, immediately bringing his lips back to hers, kissing her deeply and furiously. He quickly unhooked her bra, and she let it fall to the floor.

They pulled apart for a second, a heartbeat, an understanding reaching their eyes. Clarke smiled, and Bellamy returned it; not just a smirk, a God forsaken smile. And Clarke realized she could get used to this, this could be what they did after the war(s). Bellamy was certainly eager about the idea.


End file.
